


Pride, prejudice and omens

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, But very little and frowned upon as it should be, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Happy Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, No homophobia whatsoever, References to Jane Austen, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-04 20:23:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Pride and prejudice for Ineffable husbands.





	1. Truth unacknowledged

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help it. Just couldn't. Thank you for being here.

It is the truth not acknowledged enough that a bookish person in any family would only bring discontent to anyone involved with said family. There could be no chance to marry such a person off, because who in their right mind would marry a bookish person? One with no connections or wealth or even some basic human charm? Gabriel had always been optimistic about that, but then Gabriel was the eldest son, the pride of their father and a pleasant companion to their mother, quite a bookish lady herself.

  
It must be mentioned that Mrs Ela Hai preferred the company or her second son, Aziraphale, the bookworm and a complete nuisance, to anyone else's. She of course admired Gabriel's manners, very pleasant, very delicate, and Uriel's intelligence and Michael's mischievous character, but no, thank you very much, neither her daughters, nor her firstborn could compare to her soft spoken dear of a second son. 

Mr Hai having taken his wife's name in marriage because she told him so and he didn't care to argue, was far too busy finding appropriate matches for his children to be interested in who his wife had chosen as her favourite, although nobody could ever dream of arguing with Mrs Ela and Gabriel was particularly good at obeying his mother, while he kept listening to his father much more.

After all, mother was all about ideals and love and doubts and frustrating questions, and father cared more for their earthly well being, the subject that Gabriel, Uriel and Michael understood much better than the notions of empathy and critical thinking.

  
Father didn't care that much about Aziraphale, out of either spite or shame, it didn't really matter. In his esteemed opinion, Aziraphale loved his books too much, asked too many questions, loved unlovable people and indulged in too many desserts to be of any use to the family. He absolutely adored Gabriel, with his conventional beauty, masculine demeanour and very one-sided opinions on any matter, which luckily had no effect whatsoever on Gabriel's and Aziraphale's relationship. They dearly loved each other, they never argued, however much they disagreed, and Gabriel would kill for his little brother, while Aziraphale would always side with his brother over some disagreement with their mother. Uriel was more interested in pursuing her career in the army, and therefore was rarely seen. Michael was just bored most of the time, but would always find energy to chastise Aziraphale, because… why not?

  
In general, their quiet life in Heaven was rather lovely. Of course, Gabriel obediently enjoyed it and Aziraphale was grateful for their peaceful little world. Of course, mother and father argued all the time. Of course, they were relatively poor. But… Aziraphale was content. He would be content in a gutter, had he had a good book and a river nearby to wash his cream coloured clothes. He would stand out anywhere, gutter or family estate or fashionable gathering, with his dreamy but ever attentive gaze, his halo of white curls, his disarming smile, his naive kindness. Truly, the fact that he was Mrs Hai's darling was the only thing that could keep him alive sometimes.

  
That fateful morning, at breakfast, the family received exciting news, which didn't sound exciting at all when Mrs Hai announced it. The Hellhall, a lovely estate neighbouring Heaven, was finally let by one Beelzebub. Rumour had it, they were rich and charming, and Mr Hai got all excited and quite obviously began planning for the wedding of Beelzebub and Gabriel.

Mrs Hai and Aziraphale exchanged looks, Gabriel for once sided with his mother, probably because he immediately knew that Aziraphale's opinion was the same, that is, they were both embarrassed by father's rambling and planning and what not. Anyway, it was decided that they would attend the assembly in a nearby town of Jordanford in order to introduce themselves to Beelzebub and their family.

  
Mrs Hai retired to the library, along with Aziraphale, and Gabriel had to deal with Michael's boredom and father's excitement all on his own. But he was the firstborn, that was his duty, and he bore it proudly.

  
The night of the ball Heaven was all nervous and frantic. Mr Hai checked Gabriel's tie exactly sixty seven times, and unceremoniously took away Aziraphale's tie, for "you are plain and soft, and your tie would complement Gabriel's eyes much better any way. Michael was just anxious to dance.

  
"I'm so sorry, little brother," whispered Gabriel guiltily on their way to the ball.

  
"It's alright, dear, we both know that you are a rare beauty."

  
"Are you being sarcastic, Aziraphale?"

  
"I'm not. You are very fetching. I rely on you to dance for both of us."

  
"Oh, but you must dance, little brother."

  
"I will do no such thing, dearest. I will sit and watch you break as many hearts as humanly possible."

  
"Please, Aziraphale, you are quite handsome yourself."

  
"I intend to hide my dashing face behind a book, Gabriel."

  
"Aziraphale, we all need to marry someone."

  
"I'd marry a book. Or a crepe."

  
"And what will you do with your married life once the book is finished and the crepe is eaten?"

  
"I'll move on to another book and another crepe."

  
"Sinful!"

  
"Isn't it? I rather hoped you'd be appalled enough to spend the evening dancing. Is it working?"

  
"Very much so," said Gabriel coldly.

  
As soon as they entered, Aziraphale found himself a quiet corner, pulled Petrach out of his pocket and lost himself to the perfect poetry. Every now and then he would remind himself to check on Gabriel, but he was doing just fine. That is, until Mr Hai made a frustrated face which implied Aziraphale was to come to his father and his siblings to bear the burden of introductions.

  
"These are my children," said Mr Hai, and he sounded proud. The pride diminished with each name.

  
"This is my eldest, Gabriel, the handsomest of them. This is Aziraphale, my second child, quite a dear. This is Michael, she's my sweet little girl, and my other daughter, Uriel, is in the army and couldn't come. Children, this is Beelzebub and…" Mr Hai looked questioningly at a tall man with long red hair and dark glasses on his eyes, who stood behind Beelzebub and tried his best to be both polite and bored.

  
"Such a pity your daughter couldn't come," answered Beelzebub somewhat frustrated but still sweet.

  
"How very wise of her," muttered their friend.

  
"This is my best and dearest friend, Mr Crowley. Crowley, please, come forward," they demanded, and Mr Crowley obliged with a heavy sigh.

  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, without meaning a word of it, including "to" and "your".

  
Mr Hai decided to pay no attention to such lack of manners and offered Beelzebub a dance with Gabriel. To Aziraphale's surprise, Gabriel accepted eagerly and breathlessly. Gabriel would never like someone so calm, someone so much shorter than he was. Yet, Beelzebub and Gabriel took each other's hands and went away to dance.  
Mr Crowley excused himself.

  
"What a horrible man," said Mr Hai, too loudly. Aziraphale blushed and returned to his reading. Michael was dancing with a tall officer by the name of Ligur and flirted with him so unashamedly, that Aziraphale thanked God for poetry and poor social skills he had been given.

  
The dance was over, and suddenly Aziraphale heard Beelzebub saying to their friend:

  
"Crowley, you must dance!"

  
"And why is that? You are dancing with the handsomest person in attendance, and Lucifer is nowhere to be seen."

  
"My sister was under the weather."

  
"Oh, then so am I."

  
"Listen, Crowley, I have never meant someone as agreeable as Gabriel."

  
"Then go on, enjoy his charms. I'm alright here, with awful wine."

  
"Come on, ask his brother. He seems very… intelligent."

  
"Barely tolerable, Beelzebub."

  
"Well, you are being obnoxious, Crowley."

  
"This is what I am, my friend. Go on, have fun."

  
Beelzebub obliged, far too eagerly, and Crowley let out a sigh.

  
Aziraphale opted for his book, though somehow each and every line appeared ginger and strict and very proud.

  
The next morning, the Hais received an invitation from Beelzebub's sister, Lucifer. She apologized for being under the weather and asked for Gabriel to come and visit her and her sibling, for said sibling had been impressed by Gabriel, and she'd be happy to make his acquaintance.

  
"Gabriel is to ride!" announced Mr Hai.

  
"Father, it's going to rain, I don't think it's wise," said Aziraphale softly.

  
"Good, he'll get wet and will have to stay the night."

  
Gabriel blushed and enthusiastically nodded.  
Aziraphale couldn't help rolling his eyes.  
By the end of that day they received a letter from the Hellhall informing them that Gabriel was very ill indeed and was welcome to stay for several days until his fever passed.

Aziraphale obligingly packed some of Gabriel's things and sent them back. In the morning he walked to the Hellhall.

The weather was lovely. The petrichor, the fresh air after the rain, the shy sun, overall a perfect day.

  
Aziraphale had to climb over a fence, and got his trousers dirty, which was uncomfortable, but probably less so than having fever. He shrugged and wanted to keep walking when he saw a tall dark figure in front of him.

  
"Good morning, Mr Crowley," said Aziraphale with a bow.

  
"Good morning," Crowley answered, slowly and pensively.

  
"Am I in the right direction, Mr Crowley?" asked Aziraphale after several minutes of rather peculiar silence.

  
"Oh, by all means. Would you like me to show you the way?"

  
"If I'm in the right direction, then it's entirely unnecessary, Mr Crowley."

  
"I had a question for you, Mr Hai…" said Crowley suddenly.

  
"Mr Hai is my father, Mr Crowley. Or Gabriel. I'm just Aziraphale."

  
"Well, Aziraphale, I have a question for you."

  
"Yes?"

  
"What did you wait for the other day after the ball? When everyone was leaving?"

  
"Oh, you see, Mrs Eve's carriage was nowhere to be seen, and she's with child… honestly, she and her husband are quite poor, but being the Eves they can't quite admit to it. They of course didn't have their carriage, and as I said she's with child, so I asked them to take our carriage. My siblings were still inside, and my father was quite lost in his social responsibilities, so…"

  
"You gave up your carriage for them?"

  
"Sure. I wouldn't want them to feel embarrassed by their circumstances, and did I mention that she is with child?"

  
"I think you did. Twice. Thrice even."

  
"Well, let's make it four. She's with child, and married into a very… messy family, if I may say so. Her life is about to change drastically, and really, a carriage was but a small kindness. Now, I really want to check on my brother, if you don't mind."

  
Aziraphale kept on walking, but suddenly he felt an urge to look back. Crowley was still standing by the fence, thin and sharp, so very graceful in his posture, his dark glasses fixed on Aziraphale.


	2. On bad feelings and intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Famous Mr Crowley, dirty clothes, bright eyes, THE HAND and some awkward conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Shadwell and Wickham. So... Keep that in mind

Gabriel was awful. Spoiled as he was and sick as he claimed to be, he complained and whined and sometimes just rambled along about how kind and gentle Beelzebub were and how beautiful their messy black hair was and a lot more of amorous nuisance Aziraphale hoped to never hear again from his brother's lips.

  
He went down for dinner, and as he entered the room he heard Ms Lucifer remarking how terribly dirty Aziraphale's trousers had been.

  
"No self-respecting gentleman should ever walk around like this."

  
"Lucifer, dear…" began Beelzebub.

  
"No, darling, I know, Gabriel is a gem, but his family… oh, they are just awful, don't you think, Mr Crowley?"

  
"I don't know them well enough to make any conclusions, Ms Lucifer," answered Crowley calmly.

  
"One doesn't need to get through the torture of knowing them well enough to make certain conclusions…"

  
Aziraphale felt bad for having listened to that part of the conversation anyway, so he entered the room. Mr Crowley got up immediately and bowed, somewhat sternly. His eyes were unreadable, since they were invisible. Ms Lucifer looked very disappointed.

  
"Oh, Aziraphale, how is your dear brother?" she asked insincerely.

  
"He is very ill, thank you," Aziraphale swallowed his chuckle and Crowley appeared to have done the same. Beelzebub, though, rushed to Aziraphale and implored:

  
"Is there anything I could do? My physician checked on him and said that all he needs is rest and…"

  
"You are so kind, I think I will have to agree with the good doctor. I'm sure he will be fine."

  
"Oh, thank you. I feel so guilty!"

  
"You shouldn't, my dear. My brother is of excellent health and I'm sure he will be better tomorrow."

  
"Wouldn't it be splendid!" said Beelzebub, and their voice was very dry, which contradicted the raw emotion on their expressive face.

  
"Indeed. Shall we eat?" asked Crowley, his arm suddenly around Aziraphale's, to the utter heartbreak of Ms Lucifer.

  
A little gloating never killed anyone, to Aziraphale's knowledge, so he let Crowley lead him to the dining room. He ended up having two desserts, because Crowley gently pushed his untouched pudding to him. Ms Lucifer decided to skip her dessert as well, and Crowley asked, very quietly:

  
"Do you want to have her dessert too, Aziraphale? It's untouched, but she looked at it long enough to make it rot."

  
Aziraphale giggled, then answered:

  
"It's a pudding, Mr Crowley. I could eat pudding even if it's been rotting away for several days."

  
Crowley grinned and pushed Lucifer's plate to Aziraphale as soon as the lady got up.  
In the drawing room Crowley busied himself with letters, Beelzebub took a book which they pretended to read, and Ms Lucifer just walked around Crowley, while Aziraphale buried himself into the first edition of Laurence Stern's "Italian journey".

  
"You write so much, Mr Crowley," said Lucifer admiringly.

  
"Ngk," was the only response she received.

  
"Business letters and personal letters… you always keep yourself so busy."

  
"Could hardly help it," muttered Crowley under his breath.

  
"How is your darling brother, Hastur, doing?"

  
"He is fine," answered Crowley, a hint of affection in his voice.

  
"Is he as tall as I am?" Ms Lucifer asked with a sly smile.

  
"No, not quite so. He is about the same height as Aziraphale," answered Crowley.

  
"Oh, do write to him how very fond I am…"

  
"I might have mentioned it, Ms Lucifer," said Crowley and kept writing.

  
"He's such an accomplished young man," Ms Lucifer said, and gave Aziraphale a side look.

  
"I think everyone we know is accomplished," inserted Beelzebub, dryly, and Aziraphale decided that it was their manner of speaking.

  
"Oh, darling, they throw the word around too freely," Ms Lucifer complained.

  
"Oh, sister, but everyone we meet is awfully good at music, fencing, riding and so forth."

  
"Pity, none can say they are very avid readers," said Crowley and risked a glance at Aziraphale.

  
"Reading is good," agreed Lucifer.

  
"More than good," said Aziraphale with a smirk.

  
"But, do you like reading so much?" asked Lucifer, so jealous it couldn't possibly be dignified.

  
"I do, Ms Lucifer," said Aziraphale.

  
"Well, then I think I'll find me a good book too," remarked Lucifer.

  
"Your library is very impressive," said Aziraphale, nose deep in Stern.

  
"Yes, I rather think it is," Beelzebub beamed.

  
"Mr Crowley chose all the books for us," informed Lucifer, which had the terrible effect of Aziraphale looking up at Crowley, very interested indeed.

  
Crowley blushed and continued writing as if his life had depended on it.

  
"I think I'd better return to my brother," said Aziraphale and stood up. Crowley stood up immediately too.

  
"Yes, it's for the better. Poor soul," Ms Lucifer was almost convincing in her concern.

  
As Aziraphale was walking out, he heard Lucifer tell Crowley:

  
"Well, that was…"

  
"That was very understandable, Ms Lucifer. And dare I say, his blue eyes were so brilliant while he was reading. This is the look I could only wish to have seen more often."

  
Aziraphale smiled to himself. He had to write to his mother and request a carriage first thing in the morning.

  
As he was getting into said carriage, he felt a hand on his own, supporting and guiding him. He looked down to see Crowley's hand leaving his, and the man walked back into the house. His hand was warm and strong and oh, Aziraphale desperately wanted that hand again, all over him. Better not to dwell on it, he thought, the man was as arrogant as he was handsome.

  
A few days later, Heaven received a letter inviting the whole family for a party. Gabriel was indecently happy, and Aziraphale hid two books in his pockets.

  
Time went on and by, Gabriel made in impressive intellectual effort of inserting a monologue or two about Beelzebub into each conversation. A week before the ball Mr Shadwell arrived. He was a distant relative, a vicar and the dullest, most vulgar man to have walked the Earth. Of course he was to come with them to the party, which made Mrs Hai very unhappy and Mr Hai almost deliriously content. He was about to marry his son into a rich family, and he sincerely hoped that Aziraphale would prove to be a perfect match for Mr Shadwell. Two children off of his hands.

  
Aziraphale didn't suspect a thing. It took enough of his energy to stay polite and calm while Mr Shadwell bragged about his wonderful relationship with Lady Rosings, his powerful patroness, or about how much more superior Lady Rosings' gardens were to those of Heaven, or how exquisitely clever she was and so forth. Mr Shadwell would give the family endless lectures on virtue and its virtues (his words). Gabriel was too obedient and polite, Michael was too bored and apparently smitten with Mr Ligur to pay attention, Mrs Hai excused herself two days before, when Mr Shadwell had arrived, father was enthralled and Aziraphale tried to fight his nausea. Father tried prohibiting him to read during those endless seatings, but Mrs Hai made an appearance, and the matter was dropped immediately.

  
"Perhaps, we could all benefit from a walk?" suggested Aziraphale and he managed to sound less like a martyr and more like an angel.

  
"Such a brilliant thought, young man!" exclaimed Mr Shadwell. He then went on another rant about the benefits of fresh air but Aziraphale barely listened at that point. The escape was near.

  
Or so Aziraphale thought, because now, instead of enjoying his walk, he was listening to Gabriel's praises of everything, and everything resembled Beelzebub too much. Aziraphale was genuinely touched and happy for his brother, who had never expressed that much affection even privately, and they had hardly been in private since Mr Shadwell's arrival.

  
In Jordantown, Aziraphale and Gabriel intended to separate from the rest of the company but they had no such luck.

  
On High street they happened upon a group of officers, one of whom was Mr Ligur, and Michael practically flew to him, although the man didn't seem to be displeased.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was. They knew nothing about him, he seemed far too pleasant to not have some inferior motives, and it worried Aziraphale to no end, that nobody but him had any suspicions.

Probably, everyone else was right. After all, Aziraphale had only feelings and intuition to support his disinclination.

  
Michael chatted and laughed and went on to introduce everyone to Mr Ligur, and the whole company continued chatting for some time, until Gabriel froze and squeezed Aziraphale's arm. Beelzebub and Mr Crowley were walking down the street, and both froze too, but while Gabriel's lack of motion came from affection, Beelzebub and Crowley looked bothered. Somehow, it both calmed Aziraphale and made him even more suspicious. He couldn't say where Crowley was looking, what with the sunglasses and all, but Beelzebub looked at Ligur, and their face was full of distaste and anger, which suited them, no doubt.

  
Ligur must have told Michael something about them, because Michael didn't even try to hide her own displeasure. Beelzebub finally noticed Gabriel and bowed, Gabriel blushed, and rolling his eyes, Aziraphale realised from the facial expression of Crowley that he did the same.

  
Gabriel risked coming closer to Beelzebub, and for a few blissful minutes they talked and smiled and Gabriel gigled most stupidly. Since Crowley was left out of that conversation, Aziraphale decided to be polite and approached the man.

  
"See you've made an acquaintance," said Crowley through his teeth.

  
"Well, I'm afraid so," said Aziraphale.

  
"Why afraid?"

  
"I don't… don't find Mr Ligur particularly agreeable."

  
Crowley suddenly lowered his glasses, and Aziraphale saw the eyes of pale honey, of first brushes of dawn in the morning sky, of first daffodils and two elongated pupils, cutting Crowley's irises in two, as if he had been a snake. The sight took Aziraphale's breath away, but Crowley misunderstood it and pushed the glasses back.

  
"Pardon, now you have every reason to be afraid."

  
"Oh no, not at all, Mr Crowley."

  
"No need to be so polite with me. I doubt I deserve it."

  
"You don't need to deserve politeness, Mr Crowley. It's a courtesy that should be extended to everyone. It should come as naturally as breathing."

  
"You are a very… kind person, Aziraphale."

  
"I'm afraid I am."

  
"Why afraid again?"

  
"Figure of speech, Mr Crowley. You are the first person I've met to be displeased with my politeness."

  
"In my experience politeness can hide all sorts of evil, wicked things."

  
"I don't want to assume anything about your experience, Mr Crowley, but I can hardly be called evil or wicked. Never had the nous for it."

  
"Lucky me."

  
"If you say so, Mr Crowley."

  
"I will have the pleasure of seeing you at the ball, won't I?"

  
"To my great inconvenience, yes."

  
"Well, you can always hide in the library. I'll see to it that Beelzebub serves snacks there as well."

  
"Now, you are being too kind. I've been told I should indulge less, and therefore you are being polite and wicked, which proves you right. I hate when someone else is right."

  
Aziraphale spoke in jest, but again was misunderstood. Mr Crowley abruptly took his leave and Beelzebub followed him.


	3. The dance, the gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball, and then Rosings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no Jane Austen, for which I'm very sorry. But I do my best.

The day of the ball was too chaotic for Aziraphale's taste. Mr Hai was all excited and even more annoying than usual. Mrs Hai hid herself in the library, and Aziraphale couldn't join her, his lovestruck brother desperately needed a calming and comforting presence, and since Michael was raging about Mr Ligur not being invited, Aziraphale was the only one to help Gabriel.

  
Michael decided to storm into their room and rage in front of her brothers.

  
"Unbelievable! Such a dashing man! How could they not invite him?"

  
"Who are you talking about?" asked Gabriel as Aziraphale adjusted his cravat for the third time.

  
"Mr Ligur, of course!"

  
"Michael, dearest, Beelzebub has a perfect right to invite whomever he wants," said Aziraphale, already flustered beyond measure.

  
"Listen, that Mr Crowley wronged him!"

  
"Excuse me?" asked Aziraphale.

  
"He grew up with Mr Crowley, his father was a steward of Mr Crowley's father. The old man left him a considerable sum in his will, but Mr Crowley chose to ignore his father's wishes, and Mr Ligur had to join the army, although he always had seen himself as a man of the church."

  
"Very… inconsiderate of him," said Gabriel.

  
"And Mr Ligur gave Mr Crowley no reason whatsoever to ignore the late Mr Crowley's will?" inquired Aziraphale carefully.

  
"None!" Michael was almost crying.

  
"How very strange," muttered Aziraphale. However arrogant and proud Mr Crowley was, he didn't strike Aziraphale as someone dishonourable.

  
The ball proved to be catastrophic.

  
Mr Shadwell's got into his empty head that Aziraphale was madly in love with him, and Aziraphale had to endure a rude proposal, a terrible talking down from his father, and all that before the dancing had even began. Of course, father must have convinced Mr Shadwell that proposing to Aziraphale had had to be a good idea.

  
Upset and angry and having drunk too much, Mr Hai boasted about Gabriel and Beelzebub, about Michael and Mr Ligur and Aziraphale caught Mr Crowley's lean figure somewhere in the vicinity of Mr Hai. No doubt he heard Mr Hai's ramblings. Aziraphale was almost crying, but Gabriel insisted on his leaving the books for once and at least watching his brother's happiness, although somehow Gabriel was far more reserved with Beelzebub, but that must have been due to the sheer force of his affection. Gabriel was too proud to let anyone but his family see him as lost for words and decency as he was in Beelzebub's company.

  
Aziraphale's only consolation was Madame Tracy, an old friend of his, a kind and gentle widow of scarce means. They were talking about the latest gossip, and Aziraphale told her about Mr Shadwell's unwelcome advances, and Madame Tracy comforted him as only she could. They talked about Mr Crowley, how he was too arrogant to dance and have fun, how Ms Lucifer practically clung to his arm, how displeased the man seemed, and to think, such a rich gentleman being so proud to…

  
There was a polite cough behind them, and turning around, Aziraphale came face to face with Mr Crowley.

  
"May I have the pleasure of the next dance?" asked Mr Crowley, looking so uncomfortable that Aziraphale couldn't have possibly refused him.

  
They took their positions. Aziraphale noted that Ms Lucifer looked positively heartbroken. Gabriel forced himself into almost rude calmness, and Beelzebub looked quite lost because of it. The music began.  
Mr Crowley danced with effortless grace of someone who danced a lot, made their purpose to dance well and loathed dancing at the same time.

  
"Should we talk, Mr Crowley?" asked Aziraphale.

  
"What for?" he asked.

  
"Oh, I don't know. It could distract you from my awful dancing. It could help me to dance better. The more I think about it, the more appealing the idea seems to me."

  
"I'm sorry, but I prefer to remain silent during dancing. It keeps my mind on the music and greatly helps my performance."

  
"I might be a terrible dancer, Mr Crowley, but if my ears don't deceive me, you're going too fast."

  
"Beg your pardon," said Crowley quietly after a short pause. He slowed down his movements.

  
"So, you prefer to be taciturn and unsociable while dancing?"

  
"I prefer to concentrate on the task at hand. The purpose of dancing is to dance. To move together. It can tell one a lot about the person you are dancing with."

  
"It scares me to think what conclusions you will make judging me by my dancing."

  
"Aziraphale, if you are asking for compliments…"

  
"I would never. I quite honestly have no idea how to be a proper dancing partner. I'm doing my best to explain it to you, because I'm very concerned about your feet."

  
"You shouldn't. I'm quite enjoying myself. Hope you are too."

  
"I am, greatly, Mr Crowley."

  
"You don't sound very sincere."

  
"Yet I am. My politeness must confuse you."

  
The dance demanded that they walked in circles for several minutes, and the heat of the room, attentive and careful movements of his partner, the beautiful music, all of it hit Aziraphale with unexpected force, and for a moment he could only see Crowley, lean and elegant, with his dark glasses and black attire. He was breathtakingly beautiful and not that arrogant, after all.

  
The illusion was destroyed when the minute the music stopped, Mr Crowley excused himself.

  
Several days after the ball Gabriel received a short letter from Ms Lucifer informing him that they were leaving to London, that an engagement between Beelzebub and Mr Crowley's dear brother had been all but settled and that they wished the Hais only the best. That same day Madame Tracy came for a visit and told Aziraphale she was to marry Mr Shadwell.

  
"My dear… of course, I'm happy for you, but… you loved your late husband dearly, and you have known Mr Shadwell for only a few days…"

  
"Hush, Aziraphale. I'm being offered a comfortable home, a tolerable company, a powerful protection. I'm not young or particularly beautiful. I'm scared of what would become of me. Don't judge me."

  
"Never, Madame Tracy, I'm just concerned about your happiness. He seems… obnoxious."

  
"He is. It's a bit of fixer-upper, I guess. He will be a good husband, I have no doubt about it."  
"Then I can only wish you happiness. My dear friend, I shall miss you awfully."

  
"No, you won't. I want you to come with us. To accompany me on this life-changing journey to my new home. Could you do that for me, Aziraphale?"

  
"Sure. Anything for my oldest and dearest friend."

  
The gardens of Rosings park were indeed impressive, or Aziraphale decided to focus on that impression and not on the vulgarity of Mr Shadwell or sudden unabashed cooing of new Mrs Shadwell or their combine fluttery when it came to Lady Rosings. It was suffocating, and Mrs Hai told him before he left that it would be so, but Aziraphale was far too eager to please his friend, who was truly herself only when they were alone, and they couldn't have too many such moments, because Mr Shadwell's went out of his way to show Aziraphale how much he had missed by refusing Mr Shadwell's generous offer.

  
Mrs Shadwell always loved bright colours and absolutely astonishing combinations of different patterns, but now she was only wearing overly modest dresses, smiled meekly and spoke quietly. Aziraphale's lively friend seemed to be hidden somewhere deep within her house, and Aziraphale missed her dearly. Gabriel left for London, to visit their relatives and probably find a way to meet Beelzebub, and his letters were short and emotionless. Aziraphale couldn't help getting angry with his brother, who apparently decided to play the same game that Mrs Shadwell was playing and behave the way he had been expected to behave. Never one for convention, Aziraphale could barely stand it. He wrote long and sarcastic letters to his brother, but Gabriel didn't react with his usual scandalised rhetoric.

  
A few days into his visit, Mr Crowley appeared. Mr Shadwell obviously had mentioned that Mr Crowley was Lady Rosings' favourite nephew, and he was promised to Lady Rosings' sickly son, a pale and silent boy who definitely had no opinions of his own. With Mr Crowley arrived his cousin, Colonel Device, a young woman of formidable reputation, a war hero, whom Aziraphale welcomed as a saviour. She was funny and whip smart, she seemed genuinely concerned about her cousin's health, she generously indulged her aunt when she was talking with great aplomb about every little thing. She was patient, and Aziraphale was reminded that he had to behave, to be polite. He was rewarded by Colonel Device's witty conversations.

  
"Crowley only ever talks about you," she said once they were introduced. Mr Crowley turned pink and with a bow went to his aunt.

  
"Poor fellow. Have I traumatised him that much?"

  
"On the contrary! He never stops reminding me how kind you are, how polite and how gentle."

  
"I'm very surprised to hear that."

  
"Yes, Crowley gives that impression of being absolutely unaffected by anything. But he is soft and nice, and never tell him that, Aziraphale. He challenged me to a duel when I told him that."

  
"I'm sure he lost," Aziraphale laughed.

  
"I lost, and justly. The man is as fierce with his blade as he is soft with his brother."

  
Colonel and Aziraphale met almost every day in the morning in the gardens. They talked about music and books and suchlike. Colonel heard about Uriel and promised to assist her in her pursuits.

  
One evening Lady Rosings insisted on hearing Aziraphale's singing.

  
"I'm afraid I don't sing, my Lady," said Aziraphale softly.

  
"Nonsense! Everyone sings."

  
"I don't. Neither do my siblings. Our tutor was preoccupied with other matters."

  
"Such as?"

  
"Mathematics, literature, Latin and Greek. We were taught to play piano, but very little."

  
"You are saying it so calmly, Aziraphale, one might think you are not ashamed of your limited accomplishments."

  
"I am indeed not ashamed, my Lady. We always found what to do, we were very mischievous children, the quality our mother dearly cherishes."

  
Lady Rosings looked so shocked, Aziraphale might as well manifested horns and hooves.

  
"Have you ever heard of such a thing, Crowley?" said Lady Rosings. Mr Shadwell looked at Aziraphale furiously.

  
"I'm afraid I have. I see no sin in being mischievous."

  
"You are very strange, Crowley."

  
"And proudly so, dear aunt. Besides, not everyone is blessed with a beautiful voice, and it's a torture one has to endure all too often when some young person imagines themselves a brilliant singer, and everyone in the room prays for quick death or temporary deafness."

  
"Crowley, I demand that you stop. Aziraphale, I want to hear your playing. Come on, there is a piano over there."

  
It was rather difficult to avoid noticing the instrument, and with a sigh Aziraphale obliged. Colonel Device went with him to turn the pages.

  
Aziraphale never considered himself to be anything more than an admirer of music. Reading had always been his favourite pastime, and he had failed to see it as a disadvantage of his. Mother never insisted on him practicing more than he absolutely needed, for which Aziraphale had been grateful. He didn't play badly, but his recitals were too technical in his own opinion.

  
"You are not hopeless, Aziraphale," remarked Lady Rosings.

  
"Thank you, Madame," answered Aziraphale dutifully. Colonel Device laughed quietly.

  
"You should come every day and practice. You'll be in nobody's way in my housekeeper's quarters."

  
Lady Rosings had never felt more generous.

  
"Very kind of you, Lady Rosings."

  
A shadow fell on the instrument and lifting his head, Aziraphale saw Mr Crowley watching him intently.

  
"Oh my, have you come to frighten me, Mr Crowley?" asked Aziraphale amiably.

  
"Am I that frightful, Aziraphale?"

  
"Not at all! But if this is the impression you want to give, I'd be happy to oblige."

  
"Why?"

  
"Why not? I am not to judge your choices. They only ever seem to harm you."

  
"And you want me to be harmed?"

  
"Now that you put it this way, I don't know what to say. Are you trying to confuse me, Mr Crowley?"

  
"You are doing it quite well yourself, Aziraphale."

  
"Is your cousin mocking me, Colonel?"

  
"No, Crowley just doesn't know how to lead a normal conversation," Colonel laughed and looked at Crowley affectionately.

  
"Let's begin anew," asked Crowley, his voice trembling.

  
"Alright…"

  
"What are you talking about?" demanded Lady Rosings.

  
"Nothing of consequence, dear aunt. I'd better go and entertain her," she winked at Crowley and Aziraphale and returned to her aunt.

  
"So… am I that frightful, Aziraphale?"

  
"You certainly have that air. You seem to want to intimidate, but it only ever makes everyone think that you are an arrogant man."

  
"What do you think, Aziraphale?"

  
"I don't know you enough, Mr Crowley. You don't intimidate me, but being a very bad musician, I most certainly welcome as small an audience as possible."

  
"Why do speak so lowly of yourself?"

  
"Do I? Let me try something else. I read a lot, I consider myself knowledgeable. Reading is my means of traveling, of learning about the world. I read much about music too, I admire the art, but I prefer to read and not to practice. Better?"

  
"Much," and Crowley smiled. What a smile that was! Bright and soft and… happy, almost elated.

  
Aziraphale chose to stand up and walk out of the room. He was far too confused to perform any social rites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the first proposal


	4. Awkward conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first proposal and the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a mention of transphobia. Please proceed with caution and know that you are beautiful.   
Also, it's my first time writing a trans character. He wouldn't appear till next chapter, but if I have already fucked something up, I'd be happy to know about it. Thank you.

Has there ever been a better way to deal with sudden infatuation than to go somewhere where one is repeatedly told how utterly wretched one is? Mrs Hai would have disapproved, but she was far, and her darling boy was sitting in a small church listening to a disgusting sermon from the disgusting Mr Shadwell.

Colonel Device again proved to be Aziraphale's only saviour. She didn't mind having a pleasant chat during a sermon, besides judging by the colour of her cheeks, the war hero was to be scarred for life by the amount of platitudes the Reverend had inserted into his passionate speech. Crowley sat across the aisle, and his dark glasses gave him a fortunate opportunity to apparently fall asleep. The man didn't know how to sit properly anyway, to the great displeasure of his aunt, but she wouldn't dignify such conduct with a comment in the middle of such a lovely sermon she had read the day before and approved of wholeheartedly. 

"Poor thing," said Anathema tenderly, looking at her cousin.

"He is hardly poor, Colonel."

"He is rich, that's for sure. But he's… he's very unloved, Aziraphale, and I'm yet to meet someone more caring, more protective of those he loves. He's been such a wonderful guardian for his brother, ever since their parents died ten years ago. He cares deeply for his friends. Just a month or so ago he prevented a terrible match his naive friend Beelzebub almost got themselves into…"

"Oh… is it for Mr Crowley to decide what would make his friend happy?"

"I trust his judgement, and Beelzebub is indeed very naive. From what I've heard the man in question didn't actually love Beelzebub and was only interested in their fortune. I also understood that the family expressed their inferior motives quite openly. Aziraphale, are you alright? You are very pale."

"I'm fine, Colonel, but it's very… hot in here. I think, I'll go home."

"Would you like me to walk you back? You are not feeling well."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm sure it's nothing a good walk couldn't heal."

Aziraphale stormed out of the church and rushed back to Mr Shadwell's cottage, and into his room. 

Aziraphale was mild tempered and patient. He could forgive anything, and many a friend treated him poorly because of it. But now Aziraphale was furious. He couldn't believe his ears. Poor Gabriel was in London and was yet to be received properly by Beelzebub and their family, and Mr Crowley sent Aziraphale blinding smiles, having destroyed Gabriel's happiness. Someone entered the house, and a moment later the servant knocked on the door of Aziraphale's room and when he answered, walked in and said that Mr Crowley was inquiring about him.

Aziraphale went down. He didn't want to talk to the man, but he didn't want to be talked about either, and refusing to see Lady Rosings' nephew would certainly raise quite a few eyebrows.

Crowley was pacing the living room. Hearing Aziraphale's steps he turned around and bowed. Then he slowly took his dark glasses off and hid them in a pocket.

"Are you well, Aziraphale? I saw you walking out of the church and Anathema, I mean Colonel Device told me you had been feeling…"

"I'm alright, thank you so much. Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"You've been crying… What's wrong?" 

The concern in his voice, in his suddenly unhidden eyes prevented Aziraphale from being thoroughly angry with him, and Aziraphale was sure that Crowley deserved his anger.

"I really don't know how to answer your question, Mr Crowley."

"I would implore you to answer honestly."

"Honestly? No, I don't think I could do that."

"Very well… as you choose."

Crowley paced the room some more refusing Aziraphale's invitation to sit.

"Aziraphale…" he stopped pacing and stopped in front of Aziraphale.

"Mr Crowley?"

"I… I struggled in vain, and I can bear it no longer. I reasoned that your position, your connections or rather lack thereof could not, would not allow me to pursue my happiness, but it… it really went down like a lead balloon."

He paced the room again, then returning to Aziraphale, got down on one knee.

"I love you, most ardently, and I'm begging you to end my agony and be my husband."

Aziraphale thought he was about to faint, or that he had fallen asleep and saw the strangest dream ever, one that might as well have been a nightmare.

"You don't return my feelings," said Crowley quietly and stood up.

"I'm very sorry for your suffering, Mr Crowley. Believe me that any pain I have caused you has never been my intention. I would thank you for your proposal, but I never sought your affection."

"You're refusing me."

"I am. Most ardently."

"This is cruel, Aziraphale, you are never cruel."

"Only goes to show how little you know me, Mr Crowley, and you, of all people, shouldn't lecture me on cruelty. You ruined my brother's chances of happiness, and I begin to believe Mr Ligur's story of his misfortunes in your hands."

"Oh… I see."

"You came here to tell me that you love me against your better judgement, apparently against the wishes and plans of your family and expected me to accept you?"

"I was honest with you."

"No, Mr Crowley, you were cruel. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave. You are the last person in this world I could be inclined to marry."

Crowley bowed and left. Aziraphale returned to his room and refused to leave it, despite his dear friend's pleas and her dear husband's reproach. 

In the morning, when everyone was still asleep, Aziraphale silently walked out and allowed himself to get lost in the glorious gardens. But however hard he tried to stay as far as possible from the manor, he ended up meeting Crowley. He wanted to turn away, but the man called him, softly, his voice betraying hours of crying.

"Please, do me the honour of reading this letter," he said and handed him an envelope. Aziraphale didn't notice him leaving.

He opened the letter and began reading.

_ Dear Aziraphale, _

_ please don't be alarmed, I have no intention of reiterating the feelings that have upset you so. Yet I do believe that I owe you an explanation.  _

_ My friend is a kind and reserved person. From their first dance with your brother I, knowing them well, saw that their feelings for Gabriel were stronger than anything I had ever seen. Your brother seemed to return this affection. Then I saw this affection fading away, your brother becoming colder, and after I had the misfortune of overhearing your father's boasting of a good match between Gabriel and Beelzebub I saw it as my duty to save my dearest friend from an unhappy marriage where only one party would be loving. I admit that I might have been wrong. What is done is done. I couldn't know that your brother loved Beelzebub. You of course know better. I am deeply sorry for my meddling and if there's anything I could do to help the matter, I will. _

_ As for Mr Ligur, his history with my family is a very sad one. We grew up together, my father treated him as his own son and intended to leave him a considerable sum. Ligur has always been the most pleasant and charming person in any room, everyone wanted to be his friend. When we were at Oxford, I would constantly find him in the most debauched company, yet most of my peers and most of the professors were sure of his good character. He of course abandoned his studies, requested the whole inheritance, which he was given. He came to ask for the money a day after my father's funeral. Ligur made sure everyone saw how he dutifully cried during the wake. _

_ I cannot know what he did with his money, but a few months later he returned to me and demanded more. I obliged. He returned soon after with the same request, and I decided to refuse.  _

_ As you know, I have a brother, Hastur. When he was born, it was decided he was a girl. It took my darling, sensitive, shy brother fifteen years to confess to me that he was in fact a boy. He couldn't find it in himself to come out to our parents, but he felt comfortable enough with me, for which I'm most grateful. _

_ Having confessed to me, Hastur still couldn't confess to the world, and in this vulnerable state Ligur persuaded him of his deep love. Hastur longed for a friend, for someone outside the family who would accept him. They were about to elope when Hastur told Ligur that he was a boy. Ligur laughed at him, insulted him and left our house. I hoped to never see him again. My concern was first and foremost for my brother and his well-being. I decided I would help Ligur to find a position in the army, and demanded he'd never show up or try to contact us. To his credit, he hadn't. He never loved my brother, his only purpose was to squander his inheritance as he had done with his own. But money is of little concern. He harmed Hastur, he hurt him, and only now Hastur is beginning to recover from this ordeal, being fully accepted by his family and our friends. He became really close with Beelzebub, and while I wouldn't dare to speak of love, Ms Lucifer seems very eager to see their friendship as such. I honestly hope that nothing would become of it. Hastur would be the first to say that the very idea of trusting someone, even someone as close as Beelzebub are to us, scares him.  _

_ Colonel Device can confirm everything I have told you.  _

_ I wish you all the happiness in the world, Aziraphale. You are a rare and gentle soul, an angel. I knew it when you told me you had given up your carriage for a woman you barely know and stood outside in the cold patiently waiting for your carriage to return. I can now place the look, the moment when I fell completely under your spell. I wish I could do it earlier, I wish I could hear about your brother's sincerity from you, in the first days of our happiness which I allowed myself to dream of. Knowing you was an honour I understand now I didn't deserve. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Anthony J. Crowley. _

Having finished the letter, Aziraphale felt that his face was wet. He walked back slowly, and told the Shadwells he would leave as soon as possible.

He returned to Heaven just in time to greet his melancholic brother and his aunt and uncle, Deidre and Arthur Young, and his young cousin Adam. Mrs Young was Mr Hai's sister, but she had nothing in common with her brother, and she used to joke that Mrs Hai married her brother just to be closer to her. Perhaps it was true, but Mrs Hai never approved of such jokes.


	5. In which Colin Firth is dry and Matthew McFayden is absent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hastur is a gentle soul and loves baroque music and his disastrous brother.

The mood in Heaven was that of Denmark in the first scenes of "Hamlet". The ghost didn't show up, an impolite gentleman, but no one really needed a ghost to be downcast.

Gabriel did his best to remain calm and appear indifferent, which only made him a lot more obnoxious than he usually was. 

Michael shamelessly wept that Mr Ligur along with his garnison had left Jordantown.

Aziraphale considered it wrong to tell his sister of the man's true character, but even worse would be to hide it from Michael, and Aziraphale tried asking his mother for advice, but in the middle of the sentence he realised that he would have to tell her about the proposal, and he wasn't ready to share that with anyone. Aziraphale was too confused to be able to coherently relay the events of that Sunday. Mr Hai remained in low spirits. He had been so close to marrying off two of his children, and now said children couldn't be farther from actually marrying anybody.

  
In all this despair the Youngs were even more welcome than they tended to be. Adam was quickly replacing Aziraphale in Mrs Hai's heart, which in all honesty Aziraphale rather enjoyed. He couldn't talk to his mother the way they would normally talk and hide something from her.

  
The Youngs intended to continue their trip, and sensing that something had been bothering Aziraphale invited him to join them. Aziraphale agreed eagerly, and in the beginning of July, barely a month after Rosings, they left Heaven.

  
Adam, curious and full of most compelling mischief, proved to be an invaluable companion for Aziraphale, and both cousins had long and fruitful conversations. Finally, Aziraphale's vast knowledge became useful for someone other than himself. Adam asked endless questions and was in permanent awe of his angelic looking relative, who would always give him answers, sometimes frustratingly vague, that made Adam think and consider and reconsider; sometimes meticulous and precise, that convinced Adam that they had to adopt Aziraphale and make him move with them to London. It was overall a joyful trip, and by the third week on the road Aziraphale had calmed down, his confusion had significantly reduced, probably because between travelling arrangements, Adam's questions and travelling itself Aziraphale couldn't have possibly found time to ponder over Mr Crowley, his red hair, his sharp and angular figure and most of all, but frankly, in the least, Mr Crowley's behavior.

  
One day Mr Young said:

  
"We are only a few miles away from Eden, the Crowleys' estate. I grew up nearby, but had never visited it, and they let visitors in when the family is not there. How about we go there? I understand Aziraphale knows the man."

  
"Barely," answered Aziraphale with a lump in his throat.

  
"You don't want to go, dear?" asked Mrs Young.

  
"I want to," inserted Adam.

  
"I remember you mentioned that the current master is arrogant and proud, but if he is not there, why can't we have a look at the source of his pride?"

  
"I'd love to," replied Aziraphale without thinking.

  
Nevertheless their trip would not and could not be complete without visiting Eden. The manor was surrounded by glorious apple orchards, and the heavy smell of the fruit was intoxicating. The house itself was an old building, but as the housekeeper, Mrs Dagon, explained, Mr Crowley had renovated what demanded renovation and left untouched anything that had proved to still be in good state. Despite its size, it was a comfortable and most importantly, cherished place, a home. Mrs Dagon could say only a handful of words before each subject led her to Mr Crowley and his brother. Mrs Dagon melted when she heard that Aziraphale had the honour of having met her beloved master, and Aziraphale could feel the blood leaving his face. He was told how caring and kind Mr Crowley was, how reasonable and moderate he was in his requests, his only interest other than the matters of the estate and his brother's education, being exotic plants. Mrs Dagon took them to a spacious conservatory full of the most luscious greenery, each leaf spotless, cared for, giving the same impression the rest of the house had given them, one of comfort and love. Aziraphale walked out through the glass door and took in the view in front of him.

  
"I could have been the master of this," he muttered to himself. Right now he could barely claim ownership over his own heart, but one couldn't blame him, really. Aziraphale had never felt so free, so safe than he was feeling at that moment. He quickly chastised himself and reminded himself of Gabriel's misfortune and gloomy disposition. It didn't help.

  
He walked down the hill, admiring soft grass under his feet.

  
Then Aziraphale stopped abruptly. He was approaching a big oak tree, its generous shade very tempting in the afternoon hours, when he heard and then saw a boy playing viola da gamba, and in front of the boy on the ground sat Mr Crowley. The man appeared to be lost in music, a tender smile on his lips, his posture admiring and attuned to the musician. The boy had the same sharp features as Mr Crowley, but where Crowley was copper, the boy was silver. He seemed shorter than his brother, and his face betrayed insomnia and anxiety.

  
Hastur noticed the trespasser and gasped. Crowly immediately got up and stepped in front of his brother, a quick and protective gesture that made Aziraphale's heart dance as terribly as his legs were prone to.

  
"Aziraphale," whispered Crowley and tapped his pockets, that were nowhere to be found, because his coat was on the ground. Hastur handed his brother his glasses and looked at Aziraphale warily. Hastur's eyes were so dark, one couldn't tell where iris ended and pupil began, which gave the boy an even more otherworldly look.

  
"I'm so sorry," said Aziraphale.

  
"No, no need… Ehm…"

  
"Family," suggested Hastur to his brother in soft whisper.

  
"Is your family in good health?" asked Crowley, as uncomfortable as Aziraphale.

  
"Yes, yes, they are, thank you," he answered.

  
"His health," suggested Hastur again from behind his brother.

  
"Could you speak quieter?" whispered Crowley.

  
"No, you wouldn't hear me, brother. His health?"

  
"And you, are you in good health, Aziraphale?"

  
"I am, thank you," Aziraphale chuckled.

  
"What is he doing here, but politely," said Hastur.

  
"How the hell am I supposed to ask such a thing politely?" whispered Crowley furiously, apparently completely unaware that Aziraphale could hear them.

  
Hastur rolled his eyes, stepped forward, smiled and asked:

  
"Are you travelling, Aziraphale?"

  
"Yes, yes, I'm here with my aunt and uncle and their son… I'm so sorry to intrude. The housekeeper told us the house was open for visitors, otherwise we would have never…"

  
"This is my brother, Hastur," suddenly introduced Crowley.

  
"Very nice to meet you," said Aziraphale, genuinely pleased.

  
"Hastur, this is Aziraphale…"

  
"I heard so much about you," Hastur came closer to Aziraphale and smiled warmly.

  
"Did you?"

  
"Yes!" Hastur nodded enthusiastically.

  
"I dread to think what you must have heard of me," Aziraphale couldn't help smiling and looked at Mr Crowley who, as it turned out, kept his dark glasses in Aziraphale's general direction.

  
"Oh…" Hastur took a deep breath and was about to tell Aziraphale everything he had been told but Crowley stopped him.

  
"Where do you stay?"

  
"Easterngate. My uncle grew up there. Speaking of my uncle, I think I'd better go and find him. Good day, Mr Crowley, Hastur," he bowed.

  
He was walking back, almost senseless from embarrassment and excitement, and couldn't have heard Hastur whispering to his brother:

  
"Now run."

  
Crowley did.

  
"Aziraphale," he called.

  
"Yes," he turned around and they were far too close for any coherent thought, so Crowley made a wise decision and took a step back.

  
"Do… do you… do you like Eden?"

  
"I like it very much."

  
"So… you… approve of it?"

  
"I doubt anyone in their right mind would disapprove of your home, Mr Crowley."

  
"Good. Brilliant… how… ehm…"

  
"Mr Crowley, I really should go and find…"

  
"Would you do me the honour of introducing me to your companions?"

  
"Of course. Splendid."

  
Both men kept walking in silence.

  
"Oh, but what about Hastur?" asked Aziraphale, ashamed of himself. Crowley made a noise that could be best described as swoon.

  
"Hastur needs to take his instrument back to his room. I think. He knows he can come with me. And he told me to run."

  
"You are a very obedient elder brother."

  
"Yes, I am rather."

  
They laughed together, and it sounded to Hastur who was on his way to his room, as the most harmonious music. The boy grinned.

  
The introduction was swift and polite, Mr Crowley took it upon himself to charm Adam, and suggested a walk in the orchards. In a few minutes, Adam was climbing an apple tree from Mr Crowley's shoulders and they talked about apples and how no salvation was worth avoiding a good apple.

  
"Such a sweet man," cooed Mrs Young.

  
Aziraphale didn't know what to say to that. Crowley turned his way and smiled. He shouldn't have done that, for the sake of Aziraphale's health he had apparently been so interested in.

  
It was decided that the Youngs and Aziraphale would return to Eden in the evening for dinner.

  
"Beelzebub is coming today, and they would be so glad to see you," said Crowley helping Aziraphale to the carriage.

  
"I will be very glad to see them, too."

  
Crowley nodded and stepped aside. He stood there until the carriage was out of sight.


	6. Music, food, love, play on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner is had, music is played, love is displayed

Ms Lucifer looked like Satan himself indeed, which is to say that she was wrath incarnate and if one had squinted just a little, one would clearly see that she was fuming. Her sibling busied themselves with fine wines. 

They were still awfully melancholic about the whole Gabriel affair, and Ms Lucifer had been fuming about that as well.

Hastur and Crowley looked very content, and Crowley was hugging his brother, which Hastur didn't mind at all. To Ms Lucifer disappointment, neither did Beelzebub. After all, the matchmaking Ms Lucifer considered herself so good at, was her idea, and since she had never been in the mood to admit to having made a mistake, she still hoped that Beelzebub would marry Hastur and she would marry Mr Crowley who was obviously smitten with her, although every meeting with Mr Crowley proved her wrong in everyone's eyes but her own. Her pride had to be her downfall someday, but for now she was a welcome guest in Eden.

She could not understand how it was possible for Crowley to talk about such vulgar and mundane topics as apples and harvest and suchlike when all Crowley had to do was to admire her and pine. In his defense, Crowley did pine, but Ms Lucifer unfortunately wasn't the object of his pining.

Ever since he had seen Aziraphale for the first time, he couldn't get his kind round face and halo of pale blond hair and brilliant blue eyes out of his mind. After he had learned about the carriage, he couldn't get Aziraphale's kindness and his humour out of his mind, that had been occupied by Hastur, exotic plants, apples, harvest, tenants, farmers and so forth, but not necessarily in that order, although Hastur would always be the first. Aziraphale had politely asked Hastur to share his place in Crowley's thoughts, and they had been having long conversations there ever since. Being refused by Aziraphale hurt Crowley less than the idea that he had hurt him first. He had been presumptuous and arrogant, and he would fight a thousand windmills and what not to change Aziraphale's opinion of him, which was exactly what he was trying to do now, frantically checking the dinner menu, giving strict instructions to serve extra portion of the dessert only to Aziraphale. Hastur was following him around, encouraging and infuriating him in equal measure.

  
"You should ask him…"

  
"Hastur, sweetling, it has been going on for some time. Please, you are making me nervous."

  
"But you are already nervous, brother."

  
"I am. How could you tell?"

  
"No need to be sarcastic, Anthony."

  
Hastur rarely used his brother's name, therefore Crowley would always stop whatever he had been doing being addressed by his brother like that.

  
"He is so kind, Anthony. He's beaming kindness and acceptance. You deserve him, and he deserves you."

  
"Dearest, I don't deserve a hair on his head, and he deserves the world."

  
"You are the world, Anthony. Look around. This house, our home is so welcoming and cozy because of you. We are rich because of you. Your plants are in full bloom all year round because of you."

  
"I'm stupid and arrogant."

  
"You behaved stupidly and arrogantly. Doesn't mean a thing about you. I believe in you, brother. Now, go and be gorgeous."

  
"As you say, little brother," Crowley kissed Hastur's forehead. He still opted for clinging to his brother for dear life when Aziraphale and the Youngs arrived.

  
Aziraphale looked softer and gentler than ever, his cream coloured clothes were replaced by a white suit with a blue shirt and dark blue cravat. Seeing that his brother intended to remain a statue, Hastur rushed to Aziraphale, holding his hands and remembering that he had not touched anyone but his brother ever since Ligur.

Hastur wasn't a pinnacle of small talk, though, so he decided to talk about things he enjoyed most, namely music.

  
"My brother told me you play so very well. I hope we will hear you tonight."

  
"Your brother is too kind for his own good," laughed Aziraphale.

  
"He is, isn't he? He spoils me rotten," confided Hastur.

  
"No way, my dear!"

  
"He does. He brought me that marvelous viola da gamba and I spent the whole way from London learning a Vivaldi's concerto, and ended up so impatient to show him what a beautiful gift he had given me, that you found us under a blessed tree."

  
"Oh, I thought I was mistaken. I only ever studied the script and never heard that particular work."

  
Hastur stopped and ceased breathing. 

Aziraphale looked at the boy then at Crowley, genuine concern in his eyes, that turned storm blue with worry.

  
"Have you read Monteverdi's letters, dear boy?" asked Aziraphale sheepishly.

  
"You did…" Hastur might as well have discovered the secret of immortality.

  
"I did. Of course. Such a brilliant man."

  
"I shall play him tonight then. I have a lute."

  
"And archlute, and a theorbo," Crowley joined them, scared by Aziraphale's worry and quickly calmed down. He suspected he would always be calmed down on hearing Aziraphale's soft voice.

  
"And harpsichord!" exclaimed Hastur, elated.

  
"Are you talking about baroque music again?" asked Ms Lucifer with a frown.

  
"We are," beamed Hastur.

  
"Hastur, I told you many times that baroque music is too excessive, too chaotic to be of good taste, and…"

  
"I dearly love baroque music. I haven't had that many opportunities to hear it, but it's pure poetry," remarked Aziraphale calmly.

Hastur felt warm and safe, Crowley felt like someone had set him on fire, and he enjoyed the experience.

  
"Well, I wouldn't expect proper understanding of music from country gentry, Aziraphale. There are charms to country life, but…"

  
"Aziraphale!" Beelzebub was shaking Aziraphale's hands with such fervor, Aziraphale wanted to leave immediately.

  
"I'm so happy to see you! How is your family?"

  
"They are all fine, Beelzebub. My brother had just recently returned from London."

  
"Oh… oh…" Beelzebub suddenly was sad and pensive, and they left Aziraphale as abruptly as they had come to greet him.

  
During dinner Aziraphale, Hastur and surprisingly Adam were talking about music. They discussed Bach (all of them actually, divine), Monteverdi (the original divinity, the most glorious of composers to have walked the Earth), Vivaldi (human incarnate), Frescobaldi (marvelous), Purcell (could be more respectful of Shakespeare, but still fascinating to say the least), Scarlatti and Corelli (so heartwarming and tender), Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre (the goddess), Telemann (better than Bach, to say the least), Lully (heart wrenching and the best music for dancing, if you ask Aziraphale and Hastur, and Adam agreed). The Youngs and Crowley silently and happily admired the trio. Beelzebub tried to drown their sorrows in wine, and Ms Lucifer was, as we mentioned earlier, fuming.

  
After dinner, Aziraphale helped Adam and Hastur to sing properly in the baroque-era Italian, and as Hastur touched the strings of his archlute and Adam began singing (Monteverdi, Si Dolce É il Tormento, very fitting, all pining and unrequited love), Aziraphale allowed himself to walk away from two angels, wicked in their talents, and get himself a glass of wine.

  
"Pray tell me, Aziraphale, are the militia still in Jordantown?" asked Ms Lucifer.

  
Aziraphale was simultaneously lost in the music, the wine and Crowley's hidden gaze of pure adoration, so he couldn't hear Ms Lucifer properly and she had to repeat her question loudly.

  
"Oh, the militia. They left a while ago."

  
"You must suffer the loss of such exquisite company," Ms Lucifer smirked.

  
"We are doing our best to endure it," answered Aziraphale and was about to return to Adam and Hastur when Ms Lucifer said:

  
"Why, I thought the absence of one Mr Ligur would be mourned to no end."

  
Hastur's fingers slipped off of the strings, and Adam, having lost his accompaniment, stopped singing. A moment of heavy silence - and Aziraphale rushed to Hastur.

  
"I'm so sorry, my dear. How are you supposed to play when no one is here to turn the pages? Forgive me, it is not to happen again. Here…" Aziraphale turned the page.

  
Crowley who was about to jump up from his seat, melted back into it. He was safe, more importantly his brother was safe. Aziraphale put his manicured fingers on the boy's shoulders, standing over him like a fierce guardian angel, and Hastur relaxed under the touch, let himself drink in Adam's exceptional voice, genderless and heavenly, and played calmly and knowingly, showing everyone in the room his skill and his considerable talent.

  
Aziraphale looked up at Crowley and smiled.

"It's alright," he mouthed. "You are safe. He is safe, forever."

  
Crowley tried to mouth something back, but could only accomplish a soundless "Ngk".

  
That night Crowley couldn't sleep, and Hastur, always attuned to his brother, came to him and they talked through the night.

  
Crowley was so happy, he barely noticed that the morning had arrived. He rode to Easterngate to renew his invitation for another dinner, and found Aziraphale in tears and distress.

  
"What happened? Are you alright? Aziraphale, how may I help?"

  
"I'm afraid nothing can be done. Michael eloped with Ligur. She has no money, no connections, nothing to lure him. She is at the mercy of the man who proved himself merciless. It's all my fault. I had to warn her, but I was too cowardly."

  
"Are you sure nothing can be done?" asked Crowley, breathlessly. Damn them all, he thought, his angel had to be happy, and if the world had to burn for it, then the world most certainly would burn for it, and Crowley would light the fire without a second thought.

  
"The Youngs are returning to London to assist my mother, so unfortunately we will not be able to accept your invitation. Please, pass our apologies to Hastur."

  
"I can't tell him that."

  
"I know, dearest, he indeed shouldn't know anything about such an ugly affair, but I'm so sorry I won't be able to hear him play tonight…"

  
"I can't lie to him, though."

  
"Of course you can't, you noble soul! But I can't bear the thought of him being reminded of that wicked man."

  
"I shall take my leave, then. It's been a pleasure to see you again, Aziraphale."

  
"The pleasure is mine, Mr Crowley. Farewell."


	7. Flustered, puzzled and overall a pine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley helps Michael out and kicks some ass. Anathema is just having fun. Aziraphale is flustered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made significant changes to Austen's canon, and I'm not sorry. But I still want to ask for your forgiveness.

The Youngs went to London that same day. Aziraphale went to Heaven, alone and desperate, Crowley and Hastur on his mind.

He had to remind himself to be concerned with Michael, but to his surprise, he wasn't.  
Heaven didn't seem so heavenly anymore. He longed to return to Eden, to stay with Crowley and Hastur, to hold the red haired man in his arms at night and calm him down, tell him he was more than enough, that at least for Aziraphale he was more than enough.

  
Aziraphale wanted to relinquish everything, his family, his brother, his sister, his home, just to return to Crowley and hold him. Kiss him, feel his touch, caress his shoulders during a thunderstorm at night, bring him the first fruit of the harvest… 

He hated himself for such thoughts, yet those thoughts were his only comfort. A big bad demon inside him whispered that Gabriel had to be more concerned with his beloved than with propriety, that Michael would have ignored any advice, that Crowley and Hastur needed him more. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he needed them more than he needed his family, even his mother.

  
Meanwhile back in Eden, the evening that was supposed to be just as pleasant as the previous one had proceeded in the most unbearable fashion. Hastur excused himself almost immediately and went to his instruments. Since the conversation was full of empty pauses, they could hear every other moment the quiet distress of the harpsichord as Hastur played a despairing aria, which had been the only surviving part of Monteverdi's opera about forlorn Arianna. How bloody appropriate, thought Crowley.

  
"How wonderful that we are left alone this evening!" said Ms Lucifer, although the only wonderful thing to be found was the wine.

  
"Sister, I'd rather you…" began Beelzebub, but Lucifer paid them no attention.

  
"Crowley, you really shouldn't be encouraging Hastur's passion for baroque. He is very talented, no doubt, but…"

  
"I shall encourage everything that brings Hastur joy," replied Crowley coldly.

  
"I'm going to join him," said Beelzebub and left the room. Apparently Hastur asked to remain alone, because after a few minutes Beelzebub returned.

  
"What could have possibly happened?" they asked Crowley.

  
"Some family business," answered Crowley, trying to push his dark glasses almost all through his head to hide his eyes.

  
"Or they just were smart enough to realise how unfitting their presence is here," remarked Ms Lucifer.

  
"I'm glad that you finally recognise their intelligence," Crowley said.

  
"Oh, but this barely counts as intelligence, Mr Crowley. I can't fathom what persuaded you to invite them in the first place."

  
"They are kind and lovely people. The sort of people I want Hastur to have more of in his life."

  
"But whatever they could give him? The Youngs are merchants…"

  
"So was our father," said Beelzebub angrily.

  
"Not for long, dearest… and Aziraphale… that air of pompous holier-than-thou attitude, that smug superiority without a single reason for it. He must imagine himself very knowledgeable."

  
"You must have missed that bit where he taught a boy to sing in the fifteenth century Italian during one evening," Beelzebub was having none of it, and Crowley was very grateful that his friend was the first to speak. He would have said something much ruder.

"Oh, so speaking Italian is considered special now? Everyone speaks Italian."

  
"You don't," remarked Beelzebub.

  
"Neither do you."

  
"And we are not special, aren't we?" said Beelzebub, a cold and cruel smile on their lips.

  
"And judging by the amount of desserts and wine Aziraphale consumed yesterday, the man is a glutton and a drunkard. I remember you once mentioned, Mr Crowley, how brilliant his eyes are. Well, we have to thank the wine for this effect. Pudgy little thing read a book or two and considers himself a scholar…"

  
There was a sudden and loud noise, which turned out to be Crowley who stood up with such force that he moved the sofa. In moments of anger and anguish Crowley was prone to lose any knowledge of how human bodies functioned and his usual sauntering became so wild, one would be forgiven for thinking he had no bones in his hips.

  
"Forgive me, I must leave," said Crowley.

  
"Of course," Beelzebub looked at their friend with quiet understanding.

  
"Keep an eye on Hastur, will you?" asked Crowley.

  
"I will, although I'm the last person in the world to be trusted with someone else's well-being… Gabriel always seemed so organised and clever."

  
"Oh, don't start. The bastard was as cold as an iceberg with you, and you let yourself be swayed by his purple eyes."

  
Beelzebub gave their sister a look of pure disgust.

  
"Maybe if you hadn't insisted on leaving, I'd still have a chance of winning him over, of showing him I was good for him. Now I feel as worthless as I did when… when I came out to mother."

  
Lucifer bit her lip.

  
"She never meant it. She was just… shocked."

  
"No, I don't think so, and you are doing quite the same to me."

  
"I'm not, darling, you know I love you."

  
"You love a certain version of me. A certain version of Crowley."

  
"Preferably the version that admits his feelings for me."

"Feelings for you?" Beelzebub laughed bitterly.

  
"You don't know him that well, do you?" they said wiping their tears and trying to stop laughing.

  
"What is that I don't know?"

  
"Nevermind."

  
"If you are implying that he is interested in Aziraphale…"

  
"Not implying anything, sister. I'd better go to bed now."

Mrs Hai returned, taciturn and frowning, Michael and, surprisingly, Uriel followed her out of the carriage. Michael looked crestfallen, Uriel was her usual militaristic aggressive self.

  
Mr Hai refused to see his daughter, and Mrs Hai didn't come to his study to check on him. He showed little interest in her well-being, to be sure.

  
Gabriel took care of Uriel, and Aziraphale was left alone to deal with Michael.

  
"I'm so sorry, my dear."

  
"Me too, brother. Me too…"

  
"How are you feeling?"

  
"Cheated and tricked."

  
"You couldn't have known. The man was alarmingly attractive."

  
"Alarmingly indeed."

  
"Did he hurt you?"

  
"No, not really. It wasn't as pleasant as I hoped, but… I agreed to it, wholeheartedly. I thought he loved me."

  
"I'm sure he did," lied Aziraphale unconvincingly.

  
"My dear Aziraphale, you never lie well," she gently cupped his cheek with her shaking hand.

  
"Alright, I had my suspicions, but…"

  
"But you never thought I'd be so foolish."

  
"You are not foolish. You did what you thought was right for you, and your happiness."

  
"You know, the strangest part was that one night…"

  
"Dear, you don't have to talk about it, if you are not ready. You don't have to talk about it at all."

  
"Aziraphale, he caused me no harm. I consented to everything, truly. I just… I wanted love."

  
"You are deserving of love, Michael."

  
"Thank you for reminding me. Anyway, I want to tell this to you, specifically because I was forbidden to do so, and you know how disobedient I am. Besides the story is quite… weird."

  
"Whatever you want to tell me, my dear, I'm listening."

  
"Well, one night Mr Crowley stormed our room…"

  
"Mr Crowley stormed your room?"

  
"He kicked the door open and walked in like a vengeful demon, and with his red hair he didn't have to work too hard on the impression. He looked at Ligur, but he spoke only to me. He asked, if I wanted to go home, and before that minute I didn't allow myself a shadow of the doubt, but since he is, pardon, looks like a demon, all my questions soared up, and I knew that I wanted nothing more than to go home. I told him so. He was carrying a cane with a serpent's head covered into its head. When I answered, he pulled a sword out of his cane and held it to Ligur's neck. He asked me to get dressed and wait for him outside the room. He took me to Uriel, and then mother came. We agreed I should join the army. I really wish I could know what had transpired between Ligur and Mr Crowley, I've never seen such hatred, such pain. I was almost sorry for Mr Crowley."

  
Aziraphale could hardly hear his sister, but kept up appearances and sat with her until Michael fell asleep. Then he rushed to talk to Uriel. She smirked and said:

  
"I was instructed to keep everything in secret, as was Michael. Pity she couldn't resist seeing you all flustered and puzzled. I honestly cannot tell you anything, brother."

  
"Who can, then?"

  
"Why is it so important to you? Michael will join the army, and hopefully this whole disgrace will be forgotten."

  
"Aren't you at least curious about Mr Crowley's involvement?" asked Aziraphale, indeed flustered and puzzled.

  
"I didn't know he was involved. Colonel Device asked me to help her and ask no questions and tell you nothing. She is a legend, it's an honour to be in the same room with her, and she wants me to be her adjutant. I'm incapable of refusing her anything. No one is, by the way."

  
"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Uriel. I really want to understand what had happened."

  
"I don't. I'm very ashamed of Michael."

  
"You shouldn't be…"

  
"Oh shut it, Aziraphale, you are terribly forgiving, and you shouldn't be. That's the only "should" that has to bother you. Good night."

  
Aziraphale couldn't sleep a wink, and in the morning he sent a letter to Colonel Device.  
No answer came, but a week later the Colonel herself arrived at Heaven. Michael and Uriel had departed by that time.

  
After a few polite words and necessary introductions, Colonel Device requested a moment with Aziraphale alone, and once granted such moment, she burst out laughing.

  
"You, my dear Aziraphale, have my cousin whipped around your finger," she said.

  
"Beg your pardon, Colonel?" Aziraphale decided that he spent too much time being flustered and puzzled.

  
"If Crowley learns that I answered your questions, he will murder me in cold blood, and he is rather coldblooded, tender old snake."

  
"I don't think I understand."

  
"Flustered, aren't you?"

  
"Annoyingly so," admitted Aziraphale.

  
"Alright. But Crowley can't know."

  
"I can't promise you that."

  
"Listen, I've been in battle, but I'd rather face an entire army on my own than face my cousin's wrath, mostly because it's at this point far too hilarious to let me stay focused."

  
"Colonel, you are torturing me."

  
"And I'm enjoying myself thoroughly."

  
"I'm very happy that my company brings you joy. But I don't think I will be able to stay coherent for much longer."

  
"Aren't you a dear angel? Hastur misses you, by the way. Neither Crowley nor anyone else is a match for his obsession with baroque music."

  
"So sorry to hear that."

  
"Of course you are. Anyway, Crowley challenged Ligur to a duel. It's such a pity my cousin has no interest in military career, he would have been among our best and fiercest… you should see him with a sword. Beautiful. Oh, you are blushing… no innuendo, I assure you."

  
"I didn't suspect any."

  
"But you find him beautiful. I'll tell him that before he cuts me in two. Or three. So, they had their duel, I was there as Crowley's second. Ligur didn't stand a chance. I rather think that the whole heavenly host stood no chance against my raging darling of a cousin. Soft demon…"

  
"Colonel, please."

  
"Well, there's little to say. He almost killed Ligur, but at the last moment he stepped back and said something along the lines of "Aziraphale will never forgive me, if I kill you", and I made sure that Ligur was sent to India with strict instructions of never letting him return to Britain. I hope I satisfied your curiosity."

  
"Very much so, Colonel, thank you."

  
"What are you going to do, Aziraphale?"

  
"Nothing. There is nothing I can do."

  
"I doubt that. I came, frankly, to warn you that my aunt is on her way. She heard some rumours about Crowley's affection for you, and she is furious, so be ready for some serious chiding."

  
"I will be, thank you again. Why does she want to chide me?"

  
"Oh, not for refusing Crowley, don't worry. I'm here to chide you for that, but I'm being quite merciful. She is afraid you two are engaged."

  
"But we are not!"

  
"And isn't it a pity? God, Aziraphale you are almost scarlet. Such a lovely colour on you."

  
"Colonel, you haven't been showing me any mercy."

  
"Slunder! I'm as merciful as I know how to be. She thinks you are engaged. She wants to humiliate you into refusing my cousin. As Crowley says when he's yelling at his plants, if you know what's good for you, tell her to… you know, show herself out."

  
"He yells at his plants?"

  
"But of course! How else does he make them bloom in winter? I'd better go. Good seeing you. Hope we will meet again."

  
Aziraphale didn't know what to say or do. His mother was far too distressed to give him any advice, and Gabriel was shamelessly sulking.


	8. Of pines and men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is a sassy pine, Crowley is just a regular pine, basically everyone is a tree.

As was promised, Lady Rosings descended upon Heaven several days later. Mr and Mrs Hai had not been seen outside their study and library respectively, and Gabriel followed their example, so Aziraphale had to face the furious noblewoman on his own.

  
"This a very small drawing room," remarked Lady Rosings taking in her surroundings disparagingly.

  
"Is it, Lady Rosings? Never noticed," replied Aziraphale cooly.

  
"Your manners leave much to wish for."

  
Aziraphale didn't answer, and Lady Rosings had to continue.

  
"I have no intention of taking too much of my time, but I need to make certain things clear."

  
"I'd be happy to oblige, Madame."

  
"Don't try to flutter me, young man. I see right through you."

  
"I sincerely hope not. Human anatomy can be quite disturbing."

  
"You are distasteful. I can't believe I'm honouring you with this conversation."

  
"Rest assured, my Lady, neither can I."

  
Lady Rosings would have never admitted it, but she in fact did growl at that.

  
"The most inappropriate gossip has reached my ears, that my darling nephew Mr Crowley proposed to you. Normally, I don't listen to such vile hearsay, but in this instance I was worried. I cannot think of a worse match for Crowley than you are."

  
"You should rely on your inner feelings, Madame."

  
"Is it true?" demanded Lady Rosings.

  
"That you should rely on your feelings? Absolutely."

  
"You are disrespectful and arrogant. Intolerable. Are you engaged to my nephew?"

  
"You could ask him."

  
"I will not bother him with such nonsense. He is a busy man of many obligations."

  
"Probably you should have. His drawing room would prove to be a much more comfortable accommodation, no doubt."

  
"Are you engaged? I'll have you know that he is promised to my son, and such was the wish of his dear late mother."

  
"Then you have nothing to worry about, Madame."

  
"Are you engaged, yes or no?"

  
"No."

  
Aziraphale realised he was about to start crying, and he most certainly couldn't let Lady Rosings notice it.

  
"Will you promise me to never enter such an engagement?"

  
"No, my Lady. Now I must ask you to leave my house."

  
"How dare you talk to me like that?"

  
"I'm suddenly quite courageous. I'm sure you will remember where the door is."

  
Aziraphale felt exhausted but calm.

Everything has become rather clear. He loved Crowley, longed to get to know him better and was sure to never be disappointed in him. He could not have a future with Crowley, but it was his own doing, and nobody needed to take the blame.

  
The next day Beelzebub arrived. Since Aziraphale was the only one to move around the house, apart from the servants, he received his guest with a smile and a vague sense of discomfort.

  
"I really want to talk to Gabriel," said Beelzebub after half-hearted greetings, although Aziraphale could see they were too anxious to remain polite.

  
"I will fetch him right away."

  
"No, send someone. I'm… you have such a calming presence, Aziraphale, and I need some calm."

  
Aziraphale obliged and asked a servant to call for Gabriel and tell him that Beelzebub was in their drawing room.

  
"Then… when he comes, I… will want you to leave, though," confessed Beelzebub, messing their black hair.

  
"Of course. How have you been? How is your sister?"

  
"I have been rather awful, and made sure my sister could feel it."

  
"How very… considerate of you… oh, Gabriel. Haven't seen you in days, brother," Aziraphale kissed Gabriel on his right cheek and swiftly left the room.

  
Never one for physical activity, Aziraphale still sometimes had to agree with the wise people of old that exercise could be quite beneficial when one was in a whirlwind of emotions, and this is where Aziraphale indeed was. He took off his coat and waistcoat, rolled up the sleeves of his cream coloured shirt and went out into the yard. A pile of logs was waiting to be cut, and preparing firewood had recently become one of Aziraphale's pastimes.

When all four of them were children, his siblings would laugh at Aziraphale for being soft and slow, and Aziraphale delighted somewhat wickedly in the fact that with some thought put into it, he too could cut firewood and his logs would always turn out even. He knew how to use whichever laws of physics he needed to perform such a task, and it was difficult and demanding, but he didn't mind. Besides sometimes he allowed himself to imagine he had been cutting Lady Rosings.

  
He heard the steps behind him, and smiled to himself expecting to see his brother elated and maybe even with his lips bruised.

  
"Are congratulations in order, my dear?" he asked gently, lifting the axe.

  
"I really don't know, Aziraphale. Are they?"

  
The voice belonged to Crowley, and Aziraphale dropped the axe which would have fallen on his foot and cut it in two perfect half-feet, had Crowley not caught it, taking hold, rather inadvertently, of both Aziraphale's hand and the axe.

  
"Thank you," whispered Aziraphale.

  
"I'm sorry, I must have startled you," Crowley took his dark glasses off and looked at Aziraphale apologetically.

  
"Would you like to come in, Mr Crowley? I'm quite disheveled, so if you could only give me a moment…"

  
"My aunt was here."

  
"She was, yes," Aziraphale looked away.

  
"She spoke with me yesterday. We stopped at Rosings on our way here, I mean Beelzebub and I, we stopped there and she… oh Aziraphale, will you ever forgive such atrocious conduct?"

  
"Nothing to forgive, d… Mr Crowley."

  
"You called me dearest once. Could you… could you do that again?"

  
"With pleasure, dearest. There is nothing to forgive. She was worried about you, it's only natural to become overprotective in such circumstances."

  
"She hoped that by telling me how your conversation had gone, she would make me despise you, yet here I am."

  
"Not out of spite, I hope."

  
"No, far from it."

  
"I think… I feel very uncomfortable standing in front of you in such a state. If you don't want to go inside, maybe I could tempt you to take a walk? Or we could have some tea brought in the garden…"

  
"Oh… garden… yes, I'd love to see the garden, right."

  
"It's no match for Eden, but still, rather lovely. I'll fetch my coat and ask for tea… or would you prefer wine?"

  
"Scotch."

  
"Scotch it is," Aziraphale grinned and rushed back inside. There were quite disturbing noises coming from the drawing room, as if Beelzebub and Gabriel had been fighting, but Aziraphale decided that Gabriel deserved to be fought for all his aloof coolness towards Beelzebub, and Beelzebub could most certainly hold their ground against Gabriel, who always underestimated those shorter than he was. Aziraphale took his coat, asked for scotch to be served in the garden, raising an eyebrow of the housekeeper, and returned to Crowley, who had been examining the structure of the wood.

  
"Shall we?"

  
"Oh, yes, certainly. Gardens."

  
Heaven's garden wasn't well taken care of, but there was a certain charm to it anyway, probably because in the middle of said garden, among dark green leaves there stood an angel, Crowley's very own angel, even if the angel was unaware of his title.

  
Scotch and two glasses had already been put on a small table under a maple tree. There were two rather terrifying chairs next to the table, and Crowley stopped walking. Aziraphale turned to him, concerned and tender.

  
"Is there a problem, dearest?"

  
"I… I'm not very good with chairs, I can hardly master sitting on a sofa… and…"

  
"Grass it is then," Aziraphale smiled and sat on the grass grabbing the bottle from the table. Crowley gingerly sat next to him, having taken the glasses from the table.

Aziraphale poured their drinks, and for a few minutes they sat silently, stealing glances and hiding smiles.

  
"How is Hastur?"

  
"He's good, he's good. Been a bit grumpy recently, complained about your absence."

  
"I'm so sorry to hear that."

  
"Yes, me too."

  
"Mr Crowley, I have to ask you to promise me not to kill Colonel Device, but I was practically pestering her and she told me everything."

  
"Good Lord," Crowley downed his drink in one go.

  
"As far as I know, my parents have no idea of what had happened, and Uriel was very angry at Michael for telling me about your involvement. I don't know why she decided to do that, but I'm grateful beyond words for what you did for her."

  
"The official version is that Uriel found her, so, if you please, let's stick to the official version."

  
"As you like. I'm still very grateful."

  
"Don't say that, Aziraphale. I'm literally begging you… I don't want you to be grateful or feel that you owe me a debt. Whatever hopes I might have after a conversation with my abominable aunt are now… well, it tends to happen to hopes, after all."

  
Aziraphale shifted so that he was kneeling, and cupping Crowley's dear sharp face in his palms, softly turned Crowley's head to him.

  
"You had me confused and questioning the very moment we met. I've never felt safer and calmer than when I am with you, even at your most arrogant. The state I was in when you proposed… I wasn't ready to accept you, but I am ready now, so the only question is, will you accept me, my dear?"

  
"Only if it had nothing to do with Michael."

  
"Nothing to do with Michael. It was just another way for you to steal my heart, and it had already been yours by then."

  
"Oh, Aziraphale," Crowley gasped and leaned in to kiss his love on the lips.

Aziraphale and Crowley married first. Gabriel and Beelzebub took another month or so to figure everything out and came to an obvious conclusion that they wanted to keep fighting for the rest of their lives.

The first night of their marriage Aziraphale and Crowley spent hiding from their guests', especially from Ms Lucifer. They lay under an old apple tree, disheveled and half naked, their bodies entangled and their breath fast.

  
"Angel?"

  
"Hmm, dearest?"

  
"I think I will love you more each day."

  
"Please do. I don't want to be the only one doing it."

  
"Will you?"

  
"Will I what, my love?"

  
"Will you be able to love me more each day?"

  
"I've been loving you more each day for some time. I see no reason to stop."

  
"I'll try not to disappoint you, angel."

  
"You could never disappoint me, dearest. I thought we began by being disappointed and detesting each other for ten minutes."

  
"Right, one wouldn't want to repeat oneself, lest we become bored."

  
"Bored? Never. You are ineffable, darling, dearest, apple of my eye, I could never get bored. Now if you don't mind, I suggest we try and sneak back into the house, I rather think there's a hedgehog under my shoulder."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I sincerely hope you liked it. I would be very happy to hear what you think.


End file.
